


The Witcher's bard

by Arzani



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt is done with this shit, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Violence, nothing happens though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: 5 times Jaskier gets threatened and/or attacked because he's Geralt's bard and 1 time not so much...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 749





	The Witcher's bard

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably OOC and I didn't care about visualizing the scenery, so there's that. Heavy dialog, I guess?  
> However, it stuck in my head and now it's out. Have fun <3

**1.**

It wasn’t unusual for the bard to get in trouble. He slept with too many (married) people, to not to.

Usually though those troubles could be solved by a glare, hiding him behind his back or just getting out of town. Which was Geralt’s least favourite option, mostly because Jaskier would complain about having to leave early. Even though it had been his fault. Usually. Occasionally they were chased out because of him being a witcher. But to his own surprise, Jaskier’s songs made that occurrence happen less.

So, to have a stupid bandit press a blade to Jaskier’s throat and demand - demand, what the fuck was the bastard even thinking? - Geralt give over his coin purse was new. A new that Geralt didn’t like.

“Let him go,” he growled. He would not let Jaskier get hurt over coin. He would not let Jaskier get hurt, period. The fear in those blue eyes made his heartbeat accelerate and drive adrenaline through his system. It was the same whenever Jaskier got attacked by a monster - the only difference though was that Geralt knew how monsters behaved. It was easy to fight something he knew. But humans did stupid, unpredictable things.

“Give me your coin and I will,” the bandit replied, eyes flitting to his fallen comrades. He was afraid, which would make him reckless. Geralt knew. It was like facing a hurt, wild animal.

“Let him Go!” He hadn’t known his growl could get any deeper, but it did. Even Jaskier shuddered, unable to say anything, because breathing alone was almost drawing blood. His adam’s apple rose dangerously close to the sharp edge of the blade.

“Give me-”

Geralt didn’t let the bastard finish his sentence. Instead he cast Axii - even though he hated using Axii. But Jaskier’s life was worth a lot more than his own discomfort - and made the man let the knife drop. The moment the weapon hit the ground, Geralt lunged at him and ripped the bard free. One arm around Jaskier’s waist, he shifted him away, behind his own body. With his other arm, the one that held his sword, he ended that dreadful man’s life. It seeped red out of his stomach.

“Geralt,” Jaskier murmured and Geralt realized he still held Jaskier close. Good. He hummed.

“Don’t let go. I don’t think my legs will hold me.”

With amber eyes he seized Jaskier up. The bard was pale, probably still in shock and a thin red line grazed his throat. A deep growl threatened to rumble up, but Geralt forced it down. His anger was still coursing through his veins and a part of him wanted to kill the bandits all over again. He didn’t though. He pressed Jaskier a little closer, and as requested, didn’t let go.

**2.**

Geralt knew that traveling with him was dangerous, for many reason. Monsters dictated his all-day life and humans usually had no place in it. Usually however didn’t apply to him anymore. Not since Jaskier had made an entry in his life.

But it appeared to Geralt that not only monsters could be dangerous for his fragile human friend. Friend in thinking terms, mind you. He wasn’t ready to let the term pass his lips. It didn’t feel right. However, back to the point. Humans could be a fucking menace, as well.

“We’re not paying you, you monster,” the Alderman spat at him. A growl escaped Geralt’s throat. It had been a while since a village didn’t want to pay him, thanks to Jaskier’s songs, but he should have known he would stumble across one sooner than later. This one seemed to be sooner.

“Don’t fucking call him that,” Jaskier spat in return and Geralt placed a hand on his shoulder. They still had enough coin to go another week or two, without earning new. Not to mention, that Jaskier’s bardic talents usually paid for at least both their foods. Maybe not here, though.

“I call a monster a monster as much as I want,” the Alderman replied, with disgust in his voice. He was a small, spiny man. Not really easy on the eyes, either. By the gods, Geralt hated dealing with his kind. It wasn’t worth the effort.

“Jaskier, let’s go.” Geralt tried to pull Jaskier away, but the bard could be really resistant if he wanted.

“No. You’re owed money.” He shifted his gaze towards the Alderman, and if he could spit fire, Geralt was sure Jaskier would have. “He freed your village from a werewolf, you dipshit. Pay your coin at least, if you’re too dense to pay your respect,” Jaskier shouted and by now they had gathered spectators. By Melitele, they really needed to get going before things escalated.

“Jaskier,” Geralt tried again but was interrupted by the Alderman, who suddenly had a dagger in his hand. A dagger which tip was pressed against Jaskier’s throat.

“You’re just the same as him. Monster whore.”

Geralt didn’t think. Red, hot anger crashed over him like a wave. The next moment the Alderman lay on the floor, pushed down by the force of Geralt’s punch.

“Don’t you dare,” Geralt growled. He didn’t care for his dignity. Fuck, he didn’t even care for Jaskier’s, to be honest - which dignity anyway? But he very much cared for the bard’s life. No one touched his bard.

Big, scared eyes stared up at them, while Geralt showed his teeth. Jaskier just laughed, hysterical. “Fuck you, dipshit,” he pressed out between laughter. Then he reached down, took the dagger that had clattered to the floor and cut loose the Alderman’s coin purse from his belt. “Let’s go, Geralt.”

Grinning dangerously, Geralt didn’t see why he should protest.

**3.**

The paper in front of him seemed to laugh at Geralt. The words, though, still stayed the same. A threat, a warning, a fucking death sentence. At least for whoever was stupid enough to kidnap Jaskier. Right under his eyes. Hot, blind fury bubbled in his stomach and without thinking Geralt strapped on his armor, took his steel sword and started his trek outside. No one took his bard from him and continued to live.

It was easy enough to follow Jaskier’s scent. He hadn’t been taken for long and Geralt surprised the group of men even before they reached their destined location.

Hands bound behind his back, a cloth in his mouth, a swollen eye and ripped clothes. The sight of Jaskier beaten and bloody evoked something feral inside of Geralt. He didn’t think too hard on what the feeling might mean. There was no time, right now.

Now, he needed to get rid of those bastards and free Jaskier. And he did. He knew it was bloody and gruesome, but by the gods, he didn’t really care. Not until he could cut through the rope that bound Jaskier’s hands and push the gag away.

“Are you…?”

The anger only slowly dissipated. Not with how Jaskier smiled at him weakly and shivered in his arms.

“I’m fine.” He rose an eyebrow at that statement. If Jaskier was anything, than fine was hardly it. He was bleeding, for fuck’s sake. Something still simmered in his guts. “Geralt, I’m fine. Thank you, really. Thank you.”

It was the voice, that deep, soothing voice that gripped him and pulled him away from the edge. Nodding, he looked around and suddenly felt sick. He had killed seven people in cold blood.

“You must think me a mo-” He couldn’t finish because a hand grabbed his chin and forced him shut. Blue eyes locked with his and there was something determined inside them.

“No! No, I do not and never will!” Jaskier’s voice was hard. It broke no argument. “They didn’t even mean to return me alive. I heard them talking. They have done this before, too. With children of nobles. Merchants. Small Marie, only five. Pete, four. Mele, six. All dead.”

Bile rose in Geralt’s throat thinking about it. Suddenly the remorse was gone and he pressed Jaskier a little closer. Needing to feel him beside him, his warmth, his stomach rising and falling. Needing to know he was alive.

“I hate that you get into trouble because of me,” Geralt murmured. And with blood on his hands and corpses still warm around them, Jaskier tilted Geralt’s head towards his own. All he could see were those blue eyes and then nothing at all anymore, because he was kissed like never before. It robbed him of all of his thoughts.

“I know.”

**4.**

Something had changed between them, and Geralt was even more reluctant to let Jaskier out of his sight. Thankfully the bard didn’t mind sticking close. Never had, actually, only now sticking close usually meant being connected by at least their hands, if not lips. Something truly had changed, and Geralt didn’t mind one bit.

He minded, however, how long it took for Jaskier to get back to him. Just a piss, he had said. A piss didn’t take twenty minutes. Not even inebriated and Jaskier hadn’t drunken much. One ale, to be precise. Where was his little shit?

A growl escaped Geralt, when he stepped out and realized why it took Jaskier so long to come back to him. The scent of fear was the first thing that hit him. The one of arousal the next. He followed it into a narrow side alley to see two men holding his bard, his Jaskier, by the shoulders. Some part of his mind was proud to realize that Jaskier struggled to get free, kicking and shoving and pushing. But being held by two men, while a third held him at knife point… he knew Jaskier wasn’t able to get out of that. One part was proud, the rest was furious.

“Come on, don’t fight, boy. You’re fucking a witcher, must be glad to get some other cock into you than that of a monster,” one of the man said smugly. Jaskier spit at him. Salvia dripped down the man’s cheek. It dawned, what those men wanted to do to Jaskier andit was all it needed to push Geralt towards the egde. No. No, he would not let that happen. Not to anyone and surely not to Jaskier.

Before the man could retaliate - and he wanted to, fist raised to punch - Geralt stepped in. He caught the hand and turned it. Bones cracked under his grip and a scream echoed through the alley. Four more punches and the men were down.

“You’re alright?” Geralt asked, watching the whimpering men only from the corner of his eyes. His mind and gaze was focused on Jaskier, scanning him for any injury.

“Wait,” Jaskier growled. Actually growled. Geralt had never heard Jaskier growl - and then kicked the man who had spoken earlier in the groin. The scream was drowned by Geralt’s feral laughter. By the gods, he loved this man. “Now I am. Let’s get going.”

How he loved him.

**5.**

“We can pay. Please, Witcher. Those people steal all our crops, our belongings, everything we have.” The man was desperate and Geralt felt sorry that the only thing he could do was shake his head. Behind him Jaskier sighed. He knew what would come.

“I don’t get involved into the quarrels of men. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” Because he couldn’t. He had violated the code often enough and murdering thieves for stealing was still murder. The blood on his hands wasn’t worth it. Not over some crops and cotton linen.

“What do we have to pay you, to -”

Geralt growled at the words. The man turned pale. “Nothing.” Turning, he brushed Jaskier’s hand and nodded for the door. They would leave. There was nothing to earn coin here.

“Ask your count to send soldiers to deal with your problem. That is what you pay taxes for,” Geralt said, an advice, before he followed Jaskier ,who had already stepped outside. The sunlight blinded him for only a second, then his eyes adjusted, just to see a young man step out from behind the door. Had he listened?

Apparently he had, because a moment later he held a sword at Jaskier. His hands were shaking though and his face was a grimace of pain. Sadness filled Geralt. This boy couldn’t be older than eighteen and he reeked of fear. Jaskier could disarm him in a second, Geralt knew. Despite all odds he had managed to get some fight technique into his lover and the bard wasn’t weak.

“Lower the sword, boy,” Jaskier said, voice neutral. Behind him Geralt felt the Alderman move. A gasp escaped him when he saw the boy threatening Jaskier.

“Don’t. Lio, what are you doing?”

So, the boy was known here in the village. Jaskier still hadn’t moved, just smiled sadly at Lio.

“I will hurt you, you hear?” he said, lips shaking as much as his hands. But he didn’t lower his sword. “Witcher, take that contract or the bard will get hurt.”

Oh! Geralt only rose an eyebrow, for once not concerned for Jaskier. Rather intrigued. What had happened to the young man to be so desperate?

“Lio, just put the sword away,” the Alderman tried to reason, while Jaskier smiled soothingly.

“Listen to him, boy. You will hurt yourself and that would be a shame. You seem rather brave.”

“No,” Lio said, a tear running down his face. “Those thieves need to be gone and the count will never send any soldiers because he doesn’t care for us. They hurt my mom. They stole all our money. How are we supposed to feed Mari?”

Oh. Oh!

“Is Mari your sister?” Jaskier asked, something … something in his voice. The boy shook, nodded. The sword lowered slightly.

“She’s only four.”

Oh, fuck it. Geralt had gotten soft. He knew it because something tugged at his heart. Damn it.

“You didn’t mention people getting hurt,” he said nonchalantly, direct towards the Alderman who smelled of distress.

“I didn’t know.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Whatever. “Jaskier,” Geralt said, trying to keep his voice steady. His bard only hummed, unfaced by the sword still directed at him. “Don’t you think the description did sound rather like a werewolf?”

A small laugh bubbled up and the boy finally lowered his sword, amazed. More tears ran down his cheek. Jaskier turned and stepped at Geralt’s side, slinging an arm around his waist.

“You know. I think you’re right.”

They didn’t kill anyone, but Geralt was sure they had installed enough fear to make the thieves run far and wide. On their way back, Geralt pulled Jaskier into a kiss. When they let go, he held the bard’s gaze.

“Can you please, for the sake of my sanity, compose a song, so people stop threatening you to get to me? It gets old.”

Jaskier laughed hard and loud, only to kiss him again. He started on that song only a few hours later.

**+1**

Geralt perked up, when a group of soldiers - undoubtedly soldiers in their armor and coats, the ensign of the Redanian court pranging on their left chests - entered the bar. Grunting, he focused back on his stew. Not relevant to him.

Or so he thought. His bowl was half empty when they were spotted by who seemed to be their leader. His head was held high, and the others followed his word. While his man sat down around an empty table, the one leader of the group remained standing. Then the man came closer and still, Geralt wouldn’t have bothered, had the man not eyed Jaskier like meat. He could feel his bard shudder next to him under the scrutiny. Without thinking, Geralt reached for his swords.

“Gentleman,” Jaskier smiled, but it was forced, when the man stopped in front of their table. “What can we help you with? If you need the service of a witcher, know you just found the best one around these parts of the continent.”

Silence developed, the man not answering. He still eyed Jaskier, taking in his body, his hair and eyes and stature. Then he spoke and his words send shudders down Geralt’s spine.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, your father, the Count of Lettenhove, demands your return.”

Jaskier’s mouth fell open, closed and fell open again. No words left his throat. Instead it was Geralt who answered, a deep growl making the man shudder. He stepped back, just one step, but it was enough to know the soldier feared him. Good!

“Not happening,” Geralt pointed out, hand still on the hilt of his steel sword. He should have known that it would bite them in the ass one day, that Jaskier had ran from home. “Haven’t you heard the song?”

That seemed to confuse the Redanian soldier, because he furrowed his brow.

“Song?”

“Oh, of course, my beloved father wouldn’t listen to my songs,” Jaskier moaned mockingly, and then straightened. “I’m not coming back, tell the Count as much. I’m very happy where I am.”

“We have strict orders,” the man said and Geralt laughed darkly.

“Have you? I think we don’t fucking care for your orders. Get lost.”

“But…” the man seemed bewildered. Apparently he had thought this to be an easy mission. “You’d rather travel with a witcher than become a Count?”

Jaskier snorted and - while focusing on the man, not averting his eyes - reached for Geralt’s head, to tilt it. Their lips connected, the kiss shameless, deep and a little filthy. Out of the corner of his eyes Geralt saw the soldier blush, head turning crimson red.

“This.. this is…,” he stuttered. Geralt couldn’t stop himself from snorting. Gods, this was unbelievable. What people got to be soldiers these days?

“Tell father, I’m not interested and get lost.”

It didn’t need more to send the man turn on his heel and leave the tavern. His men followed him, clearly irritated. Geralt finally let go of his sword hilt and pulled Jaskier closer, burying his nose in the crook of his neck.

“This won’t be over, will it?”

Jaskier just shook his head. “Probably not.”

Pressing a kiss on warm skin, Geralt murmured, “You should write another song. Can’t have anyone take you away from me. Not because you’re my bard and definitely not because you’re born noble.”

Jaskier harrumph. “I was sure to be disowned by now.” Then. “Give me a day.”

**Author's Note:**

> For a short second I thought about the +1 installment to be the one where Geralt finds out Jaskier is a viscount. Then however, I thought ... naaah. Because it probably went like this:
> 
> Jaskier: *talks and talks and talks* *Stops* I'm Jaskier by the way.  
> Geralt: Hmm. That's a stupid name.  
> Jaskier: Oh you know, it's not my real name. It's a stage name of sorts *talks and elaborates*  
> Geralt: Okay.  
> Jaskier: *clearly irritated but not deterred* My real name's Julian Alfred Pankratz.  
> Geralt: mmh  
> Jaskier: *Even more irritated but determined now* I'm a viscount.  
> Geralt: I see.  
> Jaskier: *bothered now* I ran from home.  
> Geralt: You sure?  
> Jaskier: *Sputters* Yes I'm very sure that I did in fact ran from my own home, thank you very much  
> Geralt: *grins lightly* could have sworn they threw you out


End file.
